


Do We Not Die?

by ArgentSleeper



Series: Episode AUs [8]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Episode Tag, Episode: s05e08 The Hollow Queen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 03:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3234770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentSleeper/pseuds/ArgentSleeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the <a href="http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/35615.html?thread=38817055#t38817055">KMM</a>: "Daegal doesn't go back to help Merlin. Arthur goes out looking for Merlin when he decides he's been gone too long, and it's him who finds Merlin lying on the ground, poisoned."</p><p>(Despite the title and prompt, there is NO major character death.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do We Not Die?

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: The plot starts the morning after Merlin is poisoned, or even more specifically, pretend it starts right after Gaius finds Merlin's bed empty, and in this story he's gone straight to Arthur instead of waiting any longer.
> 
> Note: In the episode, they alternate between calling the guy Sarrum and the Sarrum. Does anyone know if that's his name or his title?

 

 

Arthur was not a paranoid man. He thought of all the alternatives and went logically through each one before coming to a conclusion. He researched and questioned and made lists. So he found no fault in his current course of action as he saddled his horse for the trip.

But it seemed that opinion was not shared by all.

“Arthur, darling, where are you going?” Guinevere descended the steps into the courtyard, an expression of concern on her face. “You have a joint training session with Sarrum’s men soon.”

“I’ve sent my apologies to the Sarrum.” Arthur swung himself up onto his mount, taking a moment to ensure his seat was secure. “Merlin is still missing. Gaius said it would take him a day to find this plant he needed, but Merlin’s not a complete idiot. Even if he didn’t complete his task he would have come back rather than stay out in the woods alone, especially when he knew I needed him here.”

Guinevere smiled indulgently. “Oh, Arthur, I’m sure Merlin’s fine. He _can_ take care of himself.”

“You do remember this is _Merlin_ we’re talking about here, right?”

“Arthur…” Guinevere took a step closer and laid a hand on his knee. She sighed sheepishly. “Please understand I was trying to be a friend to Merlin when I agreed not to say anything, but I can’t have you worrying that this might be something more than it is. Merlin’s gone to see a girl.”

Arthur blinked. “A girl.”

“Yes. She lives in one of the nearby villages, and he likes to use his trips for Gaius to go visit her. I’m sure he merely lost track of the time.”

“Merlin went to go see a _girl_.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Guinevere repeated firmly, nodding her head as if Arthur were a bit slow not to understand her by now. “So you see, it’s fine. He’ll be back soon. No need to worry.”

“Of course not…”

Arthur forced himself to keep his face as neutrally positive as possible, but it was a hard fought battle. Because he knew Merlin, and he knew the last place Merlin would ever be was chasing off after a girl, any girl. Especially since Merlin quite preferred the company of men, in particular a certain blond king. A fact Guinevere knew well, or so he’d thought.

There had been many strange things about Guinevere lately. He’d put most of it down to losing her brother, a death that had been hard on all of them. How could he blame her for becoming more solemn, more closed off? She had tried to hide it by becoming more affectionate than usual, but he’d not missed how false the actions tended to be. Still he’d done his best to support her, sure things would go back to normal, right up until the incident with his poisoning. A poisoning Guinevere had apparently automatically blamed Merlin for. Merlin, who would –and actually once _had_ – rather take the poison himself than allow Arthur to touch it.

Arthur didn’t like doubting her. It felt like all he did these days was look at his loved ones and wonder which one was going to betray him next. He’d always thought Guinevere was unchangeably good.

How many more people did he have to lose?

Arthur pasted a smile on his face. “In that case, I think a suitable punishment is for me to go there right now and drag him back. Embarrassing him in front of his new lady friend will be far more entertaining than simply throwing him in the stocks. Which village exactly did he go to?”

Her expression flickered a bit, and she hesitated, but eventually she had no choice but to answer. “Horstford.”

“Excellent. I’ll be back by midday, dragging him along behind me. You can keep our guests entertained until then, can’t you, my lady?”

“… Of course.”

Normally Arthur would have taken her hand to give her a chaste kiss goodbye, but he couldn’t bring himself to go through with the now false act of affection. Instead he gave her a stiff salute like he would one of his knights and rode off.

Once he was out of sight of the castle, he did an about-face and headed in the opposite direction of Horstford.

 

* * *

 

 

Merlin had been working for Arthur for nearly ten years, and still, not in all that time, had he seemed to learn anything about covering his tracks. It was obvious the trail he was following was Merlin. He _knew_ the print of the servant’s boots, nearly worn though from years of use, knew the apple core he found with the twisted out stem had touched Merlin’s lips, knew the roll of bandage had been knocked out of the top of his bag because Merlin never paid attention when he was digging around in it.

He also knew that Merlin wasn’t traveling alone. There was a second set of footprints, made by someone just as lean, keeping side by side. At first Arthur was concerned- who knew if this was some sorcerer or rogue kidnapping his servant for evil purposes. But what evil doer would allow Merlin to eat or let him keep his bag at all, let alone a bag carrying medical supplies? More likely it was some lad from the lower town tagging along to provide ears for Merlin to chat incessantly at.

Knowing there was someone friendly along made Arthur feel better and worse at the same time. On the one hand, there was someone there if Merlin had gotten himself hurt or in trouble. Someone who could tend to him or provide backup, however feeble it was. But if Merlin had a companion, why hadn’t one of them come back for help? Were they both hurt? Was Arthur going to find the scene of a kidnapping at the end of his trail?

The tracks led him to the top of a hill. Something had happened here. There was a long slide of dirt, like someone had fallen over, or rather been pushed. And there, abandoned on the ground, was the familiar sight of Merlin’s rucksack.

“Merlin?” he called softly. If this was some kind of ambush, he didn’t want to give himself away. But he prayed Merlin was hiding somewhere nearby, waiting for Arthur to come find him. “Merlin, where are you?”

Arthur dismounted and carefully walked over to the slide of dirt. The hill cut off sharply, creating a small cliff. Peeking over the edge, Arthur nearly stumbled off of it in shock at the sight below. He scrambled down the moss, grabbing at jutting rocks and branches to lower himself beside Merlin’s body. Merlin was deathly pale, lips stained purple. He was soaked with sweat, and blood streaked one side of his forehead. The trail of foam from his mouth told Arthur what he needed to know.

Merlin had been poisoned.

“Merlin? Merlin, wake up.” Arthur shook him as gently as he could while still achieving his result. Having been poisoned an alarming number of times himself, he knew the body often felt like it was on fire, and any touch resulted in agony. But there was no way around that right now if he wanted Merlin to live.

Merlin’s eyes flickered open. For a moment he didn’t seem to notice Arthur was there, gaze flickering around wildly. Then he locked onto Arthur and his lips curled up in a smile. “Ar- thur.”

Arthur stroked his damp hair softly, trying not to show how panicked he was as Merlin’s body began to seize and shiver. “It’s alright, I’m here, Merlin. I’m going to fix this, okay?”

“Mor- Morgana. Poison.”

Arthur glanced hurriedly around, just in case his half-sister was watching her victim from the shadow. Spotting nothing, he turned his attention back to Merlin. It didn’t matter where Morgana was anyway if Arthur couldn’t heal his friend. “I need you to tell me how to make the antidote, Merlin. We don’t have time to get you back to Gaius.” Merlin’s eyes slipped out of focus and he gagged, spitting up more foam and blood. Arthur grasped his hand tightly, trying to anchor him to the world. “Merlin. Merlin, look at me. The antidote, Merlin. How do I make an antidote?”

“Can’t. Too late.” He looked so devastated that Arthur believed he meant what he said, that this wasn’t just another one of Merlin’s stupid self-sacrificing attempts to protect his king. But believing Merlin believed it was one thing. Believing it himself was another.

“Then I’ll have it ready for the next guy. Tell me what to do. Come on, you’ve always wanted to give me orders. Now’s your chance.”

Merlin let out a gargled laugh that spasmed throughout his body. “Stubborn prat.”

“That’s _King_ Stubborn Prat to you.”

“You need rue. Milfoil.”

“I don’t know what those are, Merlin. You have to tell me.”

“Rue has yellow flowers. Feathery leaves. Milfoil is white and flat. Grows in bunches. Ground them into a tincture.”

“Hang on, Merlin. Just hang on. You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

Arthur scrambled to his feet and ran, eyes flicking frantically around the forest for the needed plants. He was so woefully inadequate for this task. Arthur was no physician. Merlin needed Gaius, or Guinevere, not him. He was going to fail Merlin, who had never failed him before. The clumsy servant could barely even lift a sword yet he’d fought valiantly at Arthur’s side time and time again. Arthur, too, would willingly give his life for Merlin, he had no doubt about that. But he’d never imagined there were come a time when that kind of resolve would not be enough.

Merlin’s time was running out, and Arthur found himself picking blindly at flowers. He had a white kind and a yellow kind, but there was no telling if they were the right ones. He would just have to show them to Merlin and pray he was right the first time.

Arthur dropped back down beside Merlin. The servant had fallen asleep again, somehow looking even paler than before. “Merlin! Merlin, wake up. I need you to look at these.” Merlin did not stir, other than the diminishing spasms of his body. “Merlin, _please_! Damn it!”

He frantically yanked objects toward him, working on a half-memory of being put to work by Gaius as a child. The old physician had never minded the young prince stopping by, so long as he was willing to stir a tonic or chop an herb. Uther had put a stop to the visits when Arthur was a bit older, but his muscles still remembered the motions of long ago, the same way they could complete complexes passes with his sword before Arthur’s mind had a chance to chime in.

Hands shaking, he brought the tincture over to Merlin. “Merlin, please,” his voiced cracked with desperation. “I need you to wake up so you can drink this. Do it for me, please.”

Then, miraculously, Merlin’s eyes fluttered open. He didn’t say anything, didn’t seem capable, just felt weakly around until he brushed Arthur’s empty hand. Arthur took it and squeezed.

“I have the antidote, Merlin. You have to drink it, okay? No matter how foul it tastes or smells, you have to drink it and swallow it.” He didn’t really doubt Merlin would obey, it just made him feel better to be giving orders.

Carefully he extricated his hand from Merlin’s and put it behind his head to lift him up a bit. Merlin forced open his jaw and allowed Arthur to pour the mixture in. Merlin swallowed convulsively, choking slightly as he instinctively rejected the liquid. Then he reached up for Arthur’s hand again, drawing it across his heart. Arthur obeyed willingly, fighting his own instinct to bring Merlin up to his chest and cradle him. Suddenly the spasms intensified tenfold, and Arthur was forced to watch in horror as Merlin’s body seized, screams stifled only by the constriction of his throat.

Arthur suffered no such barriers, and his panic streamed freely from his mouth as he cried Merlin’s name over and over again. He’d killed him. Oh Gods, _he’d killed him_. The spasms ceased as quickly as they’d begun, but it brought only stillness. Merlin did not stir, did not even seem to _breathe._

Arthur sobbed as he finally gave in and drew Merlin close. “I’m sorry, Merlin. I’m so sorry. I failed you.”

He let himself cry until the tears no longer would come. He would have to go back, have to tell Gaius and the knights and traitor-Guinevere that Merlin was dead and that he had killed him. The loss of Merlin hurt just as much as the loss of his father, more even because he’d had a slight chance to prepare himself for Uther, whereas this time he’d barely even had the chance to process Merlin was sick. How could he rule without his most trusted advisor, his friend, his lover? What point was there to anything without Merlin by his side?

Arthur lowered his forehead to meet Merlin’s. “I won’t let Morgana get away with this. I promise you, Merlin, she’ll not live much longer.”

The first touch Arthur was sure was just a trick of his grieving mind. The second he thought must be the wind. But then the third forced him to look down. Slowly, in the tiniest increments, Merlin’s chest was moving. He was _breathing. Merlin was alive._

 

* * *

 

 

Dusk had fallen before Merlin awoke. Arthur paced anxiously while he waited, never daring to stray too far. He had bound the wound on Merlin’s leg, though it would certainly have to be redone with a poultice later to fight the already forming infection. Though he had lost a good deal of blood from that and the head gash, they were practically parchment cuts compared to the poison that had been eating him up inside. Arthur kept his mind busy creating plans for their return. They would have to travel slow. Merlin would still be weak for a while, and the horse could only carry one of them for any long dist-

A groan instantly caught his attention. Arthur scrambled over to him. “Merlin?”

Merlin smiled up at him. “Hello, Arthur. Fancy seeing you here.”

“You idiot,” Arthur breathed softly, barely able to give voice to the relief whelming up inside him. He stroked Merlin’s cheek with a hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been poisoned and shoved off a cliff?”

Arthur’s eyes shuttered. “Please… please don’t. I thought you were dead. _Gods_ , Merlin, I thought…”

“Hey, now.  It’s okay, Arthur. I’m fine.” Merlin shakily levered himself into a sitting position, waving off Arthur’s attempts to help. He then graciously allowed himself to be crushed in a hug. “See? I’ve had worse from Gaius’s cooking.”

Arthur didn’t let go for a while, just breathing in Merlin’s _aliveness_. Finally he pulled away. “Talk, Merlin. I want to know everything, right now.”

So Merlin told him everything. How he followed a young boy posing as a druid into the forest to help his ailing sister (“You soft-hearted idiot.”). How it had really been an ambush for Morgana to poison him (“I meant what I said; I’m going to _kill_ her.”). How Morgana had turned Guinevere against him.

Arthur hung his head at the last. “I had begun to suspect. Too many things weren’t making sense.” So he really had been betrayed again. Was there no one who was truly loyal to him?

“It’s not Gwen’s fault, Arthur,” Merlin assured him earnestly. “Morgana’s done something to her. This isn’t the real Gwen. We just have to find a way to get her back.”

“You know, before this I might have wondered if that was even possible. But now?” Arthur pressed a soft kiss to Merlin’s cracked lips. “Now I think there might be a little hope after all.”

 

 


End file.
